


(10. Pattern) / Touch my world with your fingertips

by Mothfluff



Series: GO-ctober Prompts 2019 [10]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Eventual Smut, Fluff and Smut, Hand Jobs, M/M, October Prompt Challenge, One Word Prompts, Sensuality, Touch-Starved Crowley (Good Omens), but very little actual smut tbh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-10
Updated: 2019-10-10
Packaged: 2020-12-07 12:15:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20975741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mothfluff/pseuds/Mothfluff
Summary: My attempts at an October Challenge, basically using the original Inktober prompts for drabbles.(Each prompt will be posted as part of a series, not chapters, so I can add tags/characters/ratings/trigger warnings for each instead of the whole she-bang)Prompt 10 - PatternThe scratching hand slid down, smoothed down his shirt, only to wrinkle it again as it slipped under, a flat palm up and across his back, from tailbone to shoulder blades. “So lovely and soft to the touch.”“M'not soft.” Crowley mumbled amidst his purr, as the hand on his back once again turned into a claw and slowly scratched along his spine. This time his moan was definitely more than barely audible. He turned and twisted, arching his back, one leg sliding between Aziraphale's, who suddenly felt something absolutely-not-soft pressing against his thigh.“Oh.”“...Ignore it.” Crowley was glad his blushing face was still mostly hidden. “Just keep scratching.”





	(10. Pattern) / Touch my world with your fingertips

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first sexual anything I've ever written, sooo please be kind. It's not even a lot of smut tbh but I'm still blushing. I'm just deeply in love with touch-starved Crowley finally getting all the love he needs.

The evening had been long, the air in the bookshop warm, quiet, comfortable. They'd settled into their usual positions – Aziraphale had given up the armchair in favour of the couch, slouching more than ever, a book in one hand, the other on a demon's neck. Crowley was just as comfortable, snuggled against Aziraphale's side in just his black boxers and shirt, thin long legs splayed over an angel's lap. (Nowadays, when presented with the option of getting out of his far too tight to be comfortable jeans, he took it gladly. Aziraphale did not complain.)

He was playing some ludicrous game on his phone (the volume turned down, luckily, as the constant squeaking and chirping had driven Aziraphale insane for quite some evenings), and almost as enthralled by it as the angel was by his book.

He almost didn't notice when Aziraphale's fingers began to trace a swirl across the back of his neck. A slow, languid pattern, born more out of mindlessness than anything else. Crowley could see the concentration in his face, all of it focussed clearly on the book as he turned a page. He was probably not aware of what the rest of his body was doing at all.

The swirl continued, turned into a figure eight, some up and down strokes. The pattern grew larger, up into the base of his hair, down to the lining of his shirt.

Crowley closed his eyes and snuggled his face against the beige cardigan. He could enjoy this, as long as he didn't pull the angel out of his trance.

When the soft stroke of fingers turned into almost equally soft scratch of nails, and a barely audible moan escaped his lips, that idea flew out of the window.

Aziraphale's fingers stilled, his eyes sliding from the pages of the book down to Crowley's face, or as much of it as he could see nestled against his side. (Luckily, it was not much, or his expression would've betrayed him as he quietly cursed about the break of the moment.)

A quick smile, barely there, and the fingers began anew, an even slower scratching across his neck, to behind his ear. A perfectly manicured fingernail traced the outline of his earlobe as Crowley purred, his nose still deep into the cardigan.

“Look at you,” the quiet whisper caught his ear, shuddered through him almost as much as the touch, “so lovely.”

“No.” He tried to protest, but Aziraphale's hand was still scratching, the other one now tracing along his exposed collarbone, and it was hard to form any words at all through the heavy fog of contentment.

“But you are.” the scratching hand slid down, smoothed down his shirt, only to wrinkle it again as it slipped under, a flat palm up and across his back, from tailbone to shoulder blades. “So lovely and soft to the touch.”

“M'not soft.” Crowley mumbled amidst his purr, as the hand on his back once again turned into a claw and slowly scratched along his spine. This time his moan was definitely more than barely audible. He turned and twisted, arching his back, one leg sliding between Aziraphale's, who suddenly felt something absolutely-not-soft pressing against his thigh.

“Oh.”

“...Ignore it.” Crowley was glad his blushing face was still mostly hidden. “Just keep scratching.”

“Oh, my darling.” A few moves and pulls, and before Crowley could properly realise what was happening, he was straddling Aziraphale's lap, who was now smiling directly into his blush covered and sadly not hidden anymore face. “I think I can concentrate on both quite well.”

With that, his hand slid back under the shirt, scratching along his lower back, as the other thumbed across the bulge in his pants.

Crowley closed his eyes again, laying his arms around Aziraphale's shoulders, their foreheads touching – if he couldn't hide anymore, he could at least pretend not to be seen. Aziraphale leant forward to push a soft kiss on the edge of his mouth.

Both hands crept under the shirt now, sliding up and down his back, his sides, his stomach, from soft strokes to long drawn-out scratches, drawing perfect patterns across his body. None of his scratches were deep enough to leave any trace, just enough to cause a trail of goosebumps up to his neck, his strokes only pressing enough to leave behind a pleasant warmth on cool skin.

“You're so sensitive.” Aziraphale whispered against his lips as his hands swept from his sides down to his hips, scratched along the dip towards the edge of his boxers, pulling a soft whine out of his throat. When they reached back over the pants instead to give his arse a short squeeze, the noise was even higher-pitched and not something Crowley was too proud of. Aziraphale smiled nonetheless.

“No part of you has been touched enough, I think.” He trailed down the sides of his thighs now, as Crowley almost involuntarily pushed himself against his stomach in a slow grind.

“You're working hard to change that, angel.” His kiss stifled Aziraphale's answer at first, turned it into a content hum as his hands travelled back up, thumbs stroking across his inner thighs and carefully pushing him back down again, pulling the seams of his boxers up his legs.

“It's a nice job to have. I think I'm getting quite good at it.”

“You a-aah!” Crowley's reply was cut short as Aziraphale's hand wrapped over the bulge of his pants and squeezed.

“So good, in fact, I think I could get you off without even touching you like that.” Another soft kiss on his lower lip. “Without even undressing you.”

Crowley's arms slacked around Aziraphale's shoulders, his mouth eagerly searching for a longer kiss. He knew the angel probably could, really. He'd spent enough time by now discovering every inch of the demon, charting every piece of skin with his touch, mentally cataloguing every reaction. He could kill him with this kindness.

“You tease.” He tried to downplay the situation, but Aziraphale's grin proved it didn't work as he kissed him again.

“You like it.”

No answer came from Crowley anymore, safe for more quiet groans as the angel's hand rubbed along his erection through the fabric, and a much louder moan as he finally slipped under the waistband.

“Angel- ah- I- mmnh-” Crowley panted against Aziraphale's cheek as he stroked along his cock, as slow and languid and caressing as his other hand, which was still trailing across his body under the shirt. He moved to place another kiss against his cheek as Crowley turned his head and finally caught him in a proper, deep kiss. Another moan split his lips open as Aziraphale thumbed across the head of his cock and squeezed again, and the tip of his tongue pushed against his like a careful invitation, which Crowley gladly took.

They spent a few moments like this, kissing, stroking, scratching, and Crowley almost basked in the sensation of Aziraphale's touch, his taste, the warmth of his hands and the rest of his body. It didn't take much longer for him to tip over the edge, arching his back forward so he was pressed flush against Aziraphale, whose hand was still working him in his boxers, and who softly smiled at his facial expression losing all sense of control or embarrassment in front of him, not even trying to hide anymore.

He fell slack against him, his face pressed against his shoulder as it had been when this all had started. Aziraphale's hand slid out of his pants, while the other rested against the back of his neck again, resuming the once so innocent pattern tracing.

“I love you like this.” He whispered into Crowley's ear, who only grumbled.

“What, utterly destroyed?”

“All soft, and pliant, and content.”

They settled into a more comfortable position a few minutes later, as Aziraphale looked up and down the lanky demon winding himself around him on the couch.

“I think you need a change of clothing, my dear.” He snickered into his hair as Crowley laid his head on his chest.

“You know what? I think I'll just go without tonight.”

“What a lovely idea.”


End file.
